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 Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2012 10:26 pm
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. They say at the end of the tunnel, there is no light, nothing, not even a mere flicker, a sign, any glimpse of hope. They say that purgatory is everything and yet nothingness.
That is how Jeremy slept. That is how he slept, he dreamed, and ultimately, regretted. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Externally, there was nothing wrong with him.
Internally, he relived the same nightmare over and over again. Everything and yet nothingness.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:29 pm
"But I don't want toooo..." Jeremy whined, slumping forward and pretending that his overnight bag weighed a few thousand pounds heavier than it really was. A few weak and pathetic tugs and he gave up trying to move it, simply sliding to the floor with a grace he didn't know existed. When he was done he was face down in the dirt, the strap still on his arm, mumbling nonsense.
"...You've just turned four, congrats." His brother said, boredly checking his watch. "Come on, don't be a baby Jer; our Aunt's waiting. Get up. Let's go." More mumbling continued from the boy on the floor, and Dean could do little else but start to leave; though he may, in the process, have stepped on his brother. That's what you get for laying on the ground, after all.
Jeremy sputtered obscenities, a lot of which consisted of curses to Dean's Mother - the fact they shared parents didn't seem to phase him - and dragged himself to his feet. He didn't want to be left behind, even if he didn't want to go in the first place; so with as much whining as an eighteen-turned-four year old could muster he followed, dragging his impossibly heavy (but actually nearly empty) bag behind him.
"--And this is your room!" A cheerful woman's voice informed him, creaking open a heavy looking door.
"...Fun, he said." Jeremy muttered, staring into the room that had been opened for him; it was boring, almost clinical...if you didn't count the very massive puddle of very dark, very fresh looking blood in the middle of the bed. The red was a stark contrast to the clean colours of the room, and it naturally had his attention. "Are you sure this is---" Huh. He was alone. Tanned palm smacked against his forehead, burying his fingers buried into bright blonde hair, considering his options; he could always go tell someone that his room seemed to be the scene of a grisly murder, but...he was already here. Less work to just make due with what he had...
"...Eh, I'm sure it'll be fine." Jeremy told himself, stepping further into the sterile room and hefting his bag onto a nearby dresser. "Just...gotta avoid the middle." It seemed easy enough; he was a skinny boy, he could easily lay on the edge! Yeah. He could do this! It took him a bit of pacing and hand measuring to find an edge that could fit him - the blood puddle was massive, after all - and he gave it a practice run by sitting on the edge.
Yes, this would work. He'll just tell whoever came to check on him next that someone that he found a lot of blood; perhaps someone they knew was missing theirs?
He kicked out of his shoes, or at least that's what he told himself he did, when in reality all he did was free one heel from one sneaker, and laid on his little edge of the bloody bed. It wasn't completely uncomfortable. Creepy yes, but livable for a few days if he had to, which he was starting to suspect was the case. Dean seemed to be busy where ever he was since he didn't come to check on him, and Jeremy could only hope that whatever was keeping him was at least entertaining. It had to be more fun than his boring room with his colourful but otherwise uninteresting bloody bed. His eyes were starting to droop even just thinking about how boring this all was. Nothing interesting ever happened to him.
There was another figure in the room; a pleasantly dressed fellow with oddly coloured skin and horns; he looked as though he hadn't slept in years. He seemed to be introducing himself, but Jeremy didn't quite hear what was being said as he reflected on how long one would have to stay awake to get those particularly droopy eyes. What he did catch did pique his curiosity - what kind of person was named Mud? Curious. Part of him imagined he should be alarmed as the sleepy looking gentleman placed rather long fingers on his shoulders and pressed, but he was too comfortable - and quite sleepy - to even think of trying to fight this oddly touchy creature.
---Oh no, could you stop that please? Jeremy heard himself say. There's blood on the bed, and I really don't think--- It didn't really matter what he said, the horned fellow seemed pretty keen on pressing him back into the bed and towards the...wait, that wasn't that was happening, was it? The Mud man had spindly hands on his shoulders yes, but he wasn't pushing; something else was making him slide towards the middle of the bed. He wasn't sure when Mr. Mud disappeared, but it was probably around the time that he realized the bed had no more pulling force than gravity; the pool of blood in the middle was much deeper than he ever imagined. His downward descent continued, the puddle - now pool - of blood slowly enveloped his entire body until he was entirely submerged.
He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
At least it was warm.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:30 pm
Then he spent the next hour staring at the merchandise in a massive comic store, but never bought anything.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:31 pm
Jeremy nearly took a scythe to the sternum.
The weapon's blade grazed his side, cutting through his coat, his hoody, his t-shirt and yes, his flesh. It dug deep and exposed a couple ribs, but the damage was nowhere near as bad as it would have been had the point met it's intended target. The Sun Trainee hit the ground on his knees, Elsie's chain falling uselessly to the ground; the pain was something he hadn't experienced before. Nothing had ever cut him so deeply. Jeremy imagined he should feel somewhat thankful that it didn't kill him, but at the same time it was hard to feel such things under these circumstances, and he imagined if there was a God that they'd understand. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, it was just that, well...he didn't like pain. He and pain had never been friends.
---s**t, Jer! He heard his brother swear, feeling the heavier body bump into his in his haste to aid. The pain was taking over, and he didn't recall much after that; the vague sense of the Reaper being swarmed by his comrades and taken down, and the jolts of being moved someplace more secure. It didn't matter to him, because he was starting to feel warm...and rather sleepy.
The next time he opened his eyes the light was nearly blinding. It didn't take him long to realize he was in an infirmary, and even shorter after that to realize that he was in fact alive. HURRA-----OOOWWWWWWW
Okay let's not do that any more, he added mentally; celebrating was off the list indefinitely. He was vaguely aware of his brother beside him, still apologizing profusely for getting him so injured. After all, Dean was in Moon and, as the older Brother put it 'that s**t shouldn't happen'. Jeremy did accept the apology and acknowledged that accidents did happen, but next time, if it were at all possible...could the accident be a happy one? Painful accidents weren't really welcome, but say tripping and discovering twenty dollars? That would be okay.
Dean agreed, but suggested to the nurse that it might be time to give Jeremy more morphine.
It took him a few days of recovering before he was back out there, on the field and in the middle of yet another attempted attack by the Halloween Students. Those bastards were nothing if resilient, and really...what had the Hunters ever done to them? Well...recently. The battle seemed to be going in their favour, but after a while it was clear Halloween had the numbers they did not; something must have malfunctioned, how could these stupid children keep getting up after they've been put down?!
Something blunt and heavy hit him in the back of the head. Someone nearby swore - s**t, Jer! - and he woke up in the infirmary again, apparently a few days later.
--Jer I'm so sorry please forgive me, he heard his brother say. Well, they were outnumbered, there was a chance Dean had been busy fighting for his own life, instead of defending his Sun division ward. Okay, fine, you're forgiven...but remember what I said about Happy Accidents. Dean promised he would, and everything was okay after that.
Except it wasn't.
For the next month it became a sad, painful routine. They'd go into battle. They'd get overcome, Something would happen to Jeremy, Dean would swear, and he'd wake up in the infirmary, accept an apology, but still always wish that he'd tripped and found twenty dollars instead. Over and over and over again. On occasion something would break it up; once Jeremy stepped on a live wire and gave himself a heart attack via electrocution, and a couple times Dean's anchor ended up buried deep in his person. He had a lot of time in the infirmary to think about it, and eventually he decided that the most offensive time being shanked with an anchor was when it went clear through his back and out his stomach. Close second was the time when Elsie's weight bounced off the anchor and rebounded into his legs. How he survived he had no idea, but he was a little less keen on accepting his apology that time. But he did, because they were Brothers, and despite the familial ties they had made during their time as Hunters, their blood bond went much deeper, or so he imagined. So again, Dean was forgiven and life continued on as it always did.
One day, after waking up from yet another near death experience, Jeremy turned to his brother and proceeded to tell him the ******** off...but with all the love and admiration he possessed.
There was only so much forgiving one could do.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:32 pm
It wasn't every day you saw a skeletal T-Rex take a walk down your street. That was pretty cool.
He did love dinosaurs.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:33 pm
It was a mission like most others; a group of Hunters going on a trip to Halloween for some potential damage control. There was a festival going on, or was it a concert? He wasn't too clear on the details, but he did understand that he was going there to kick some asses. Really, what else did he need to know? So far all of their interactions with the group of heathens consisted of frightened teenagers. Teenagers easily swayed by attacks on their image or behaviour; they were by far a threat, in his mind.
It was a little (okay, very) overconfident of him, but why should be bother to admit that? They were a pathetic excuse for an arch enemy.
So he had gone with the mission, stepping through the portal and into a rather dark room. As a Sun Trainee he was on his toes, instantly on the defensive as one of his most important senses was cut off entirely. Innocent, harmless Teenagers thought they could fool them by cutting out the lights? HAH. A few of his comrades expressed their surprise over this change in scenery, a few of them cursing a certain Death Division Leader for ******** with them again, but he didn't take much thought into listening to them. So what if the scenery was different, they'd still get to destroy some nasties.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE, WOULD YOU BRING YOUR ATTENTION TO ME--
The voice startled the group and a bright light suddenly appeared, shining down on what looked like a band on a stage. The stage was so high he had to crane his neck to even try to see them. They looked human enough and their various unusual appendages could be passed off as impressive and very dedicated cosplay, but he knew better. They all knew better. These were no eccentric performers, they were Monsters; living, breathing, performing Monsters. The spotlight focused in on their leader, a tall man with dark skin and hair with claw-like tattoos under his glowing yellow eyes. He was dressed like PETA's worst enemy; shirtless and with fitted pants but also decked out furs and varying sizes of skulls that decorated his shoulders and belts. The Monster-in-the-middle was joined by two other band members; a tall man with orange hair and cat ears, and a third whom he could barely make out, but the build made him guess that the third member was also male. It was important to know your enemies, and it almost bothered him that he couldn't really see the third figure. The singer continued to welcome them in a loud if not almost boastful manner while other two band members played in a rather dedicated manner in the background, adding nothing to what the vocalist was saying.
IF YOU WILL PLEASE, MOVE IN CLOSER--
The area around him seemed to be growing tighter; the other white-and-gold glad Hunters that surrounded him seemed to get closer and closer. He was quickly becoming claustrophobic in this sudden can of human sardines, but he forced himself to focus on the singer up on his makeshift stage. It wasn't just that the area was getting crowded, something else was changing too; there was something behind them, something he could somewhat make out through the glow cast by the spotlight. It almost looked like a door...
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN--
A loud BOOM seemed to explode somewhere behind the band members, and suddenly he realized that it had been a door behind the band. Worse, something was behind it and trying very hard to get out. With every loud BOOM the band members sang the door seemed to bulge, invisible locks being the only thing keeping whatever it was behind the doors and not out here with them. In such close proximity to his fellow Hunters he couldn't use his weapon, and as the door continued to shake and tremble with the force of whatever was behind it, he bit his thumb and desperately tried to think of a solution. Without space, he was useless. He couldn't attack well if at all, and with those large doors bursting as they were, he could barely count himself feeling safe in such a close group; for once, their tight-knit numbers seemed to be at a complete disadvantage.
The doors flew open with such force they shattered against the walls. The spotlight had dimmed by then, but there was no mistaking the thick fog that poured out from the room, billowing over the stage and off of it. The band kept playing, the singer now silent in favour of the almost warbling tones the instruments were giving.
He didn't get too long of a chance to think on it though, as there was a warning cry from somewhere behind him; a strangled noise of words forcefully cut off. He spun around to understand what happened, and only caught the tail end of one of his fellow Hunters sinking their daggers into the chest of the person next to them. The attacker slumped suddenly and a sort of mist - near invisible and vastly different from the opaque fog - appeared between the now scrambling bodies, disappearing behind another Hunter who quickly had her neighbour's arm, breaking it with sudden and extreme force. Chaos erupted as Hunter turned against Hunter, the mist appearing here and there before yet another succumbed. Nearer to him a comrade was gutted, the attacker rolling over another's back before swinging a dagger into a skull through the chin. The attacks continued and scythes bit, hammers smashed, rope strangled and bones snapped with ease; they were being made short work of, and nobody could get a handle on this strange mist that chose the victims and their prey at random. It was hard to tell who was friend or foe, and the door with it's fog was long forgotten in the scramble to sort out what was going on.
There was still too many people around him to summon his weapon effectively. He could do very little but try to move back, to get out of the way of whatever was making them turn on themselves. The light was still dimming and he did his best to see what was still around them, moving his attention from the tightly penned group of Hunters to the area above them, looking at the high stages and trying to find a way to either get out or stop what was happening.
That was when he saw them; dark shapes sliding down from the dark abyss of a ceiling. With a curse he backed up a pace, instantly feeling the press of another body behind him. Once more he cursed their proximity aloud, turning with every intent to apologize to the person he bumped into - even in all this chaos - but found himself still. Whoever was behind him had his wrist, and once he realized this it was twisted behind him, making him lose his composure in a startled and rather pained cry. The grip on his wrist was a cold vice, which only seemed to get worse as he felt a rather soft body press against his back. A woman's body, he knew that much instantly, but it was further confirmed by the low, pleased chuckle very close to his ear. It was by far a nice chuckle, and despite his warning growl he couldn't quite help the shiver that ran through him.
"Yeh ruins my life, so I takes yehrs. Fair trade?" The whispering voice was sweet, even sickeningly so, but alas never gave him the time to reply. Something cold and sharp pressed against and into his throat, dragging slowly across his flesh.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:34 pm
"More tea, please." He held out his hot pink tea cup.
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Posted: Sat Sep 22, 2012 6:36 pm
And this went on for days, weeks, months...
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